Kathy D. Hey writes creative non-fiction essays. A lifelong Chicagoan, she is enjoying life with her husband, daughter and three dogs in the wilds of Edgewater. When she isn’t at her computer, she is in her garden growing vegetables and herbs for kitchen witchery.
If we depended on the news media to learn the history of the island nation of Haiti, we would not know a lot of substance. Various dictators, earthquakes, and humanitarian […]
Quamino’s Map is the 22nd opera by the Belizean-born composer Errollyn Wallen who trained at the University of London and Cambridge. The libretto is by playwright Deborah Brevoort and the […]
Identity politics have become a big part of our everyday life. There is always a tussle over who can be called a real American. If you act a certain way, […]
I had to look up the Greenbelt in Boise, Idaho, to see if it was a real place—it is. There isn’t a lot written about Boise in ways that other […]
Women in America have long demanded that society appreciate their worth and contributions beyond the confines of a household. Lynn Nottage’s Intimate Apparel, directed by Tasia Jones, mines the history […]
Eva Perón has had many names and titles. A saint, a first lady, a savior, and a dancehall girl–aka prostitute. There are more names and epithets than I can include […]
I gave high praise to Terence Blanchard’s opera Fire Shut Up in My Bones. The opening night performance at the Lyric was filled with excitement and local luminaries. The following […]
My first opera was at age 10 when our parish priest took us to see La Boheme at the Lyric Opera House. I always thought that opera was sung in […]
We are living in a time of chaos and war while—maybe—emerging from a plague. There is no better balm for my soul than an evening in meditation on movement by […]
When a country is ravaged by war, various organizations publish pictures to horrify the viewer enough to give a tax-deductible donation. Send a check or a monthly donation and get […]
I have not heard the air raid sirens in years. In the ’50s through the ’80s an air raid siren would blare every Tuesday morning at 10:30. It was heard […]
Spending time on the West Side of Chicago with my grandparents was an introduction to Mexican culture. They lived very close to 26th Street, which is part of Little Village. […]